Explanation of Love 01

"You ready?" Terry snapped, storming back into the room, carrying the presents.

"You ain't got no right!" a nude Aunt Janette shrilled, barging into the bedroom.

"Bye, Aunt Janette," Terry snapped, grabbing the garbage bag.

"Nuh uh! You let me see what you got in that bag! You ain't leaving here with none of my stuff!" Aunt Janette declared, grabbing for the bag.

Terry ignored the woman and dragged the bag down the hall.

"Put it in my car," Paula suggested.

"Uh huh," Terry said, tears streaming down her face.

"There's, my garage is a two car, you can..." Paula said as Terry walked around the passenger door.

"Not my car," Terry said.

"Oh," Paula said then got into the driver's seat.

She then smiled.

"Ooh boy! Guess I'm getting that Porsche after all! You're going to need a car," she tried to joke.

"I got about nine hundred saved up; I don't think that'll get me a Porsche, huh?" Terry said, wiping at her eyes.

"Probably not; probably pay for an oil change, about it," Paula agreed.

She grabbed Terry's hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"It's going to be all right," she promised.

Terry looked at her for a long moment.

"I hope so," she finally whispered.

Paula looked at her watch; she had fifty minutes before her shift started.

"Let's get this stuff home; I have to change and get ready for work; you coming with me?" Paula asked.

"Please?" Terry asked.

As usual, Courtney, then Clint greeted them, but Janet hid from sight. Paula helped Terry lug the garbage bag upstairs. She then pulled Terry into her bedroom; Terry had veered toward the guest bedroom.

Paula quickly cleared out the winter clothing from her closet and helped Terry hang her few clothes.

"You going to work like that?" Terry asked.

"No, let me find some jeans; my outfits already in the back seat," Paula agreed.

Want me to do something with your hair?" Terry asked.

"Like what? Paula asked, glancing at her watch.

"Nothing real fancy, just..." Terry said, demonstrating on her own hair. "Take me about five minutes."

Paula decided she could be a few minutes late and let Terry comb and set her hair.

In less than two minutes, Terry had rearranged Paula's hair, giving her a sultry look. A liberal dousing with hair spray kept it in place, and then Paula quickly donned jeans and a simple top.

Cheryl greeted Terry with a playful kiss, again trying to slip her tongue into Terry's mouth.

"Who did your hair?" Cheryl asked Paula as Paula changed into her first outfit for the night.

"Terry," Paula admitted, applying her pasties over her hard nipples.

"Bitch!" Cheryl playfully snapped at Terry. "Do mine or I'll hate you forever?"

"What's going on?" Darlene asked as she stepped into the back.

"Terry's doing my hair," Cheryl happily told the red head.

"Ooh, do mine too!" the girl begged.

"We could probably..." terry mused, looking at the red hair, cut against the nape of the girl's neck.

"Um, excuse ME? We're doing ME first?" Cheryl snapped. "Screw her, it's all about ME."

"Always is," Paula laughed. "Don't worry, Darlene; Terry'll get to you next."

"Ahh!" Cheryl gasped as Terry simply flounced her long dark hair, and then parted it on the side, combing it over one eye.

"So, how you know Paula and Cheryl?" Darlene asked as Cheryl ran out to show off her hair style.

"She's my love slave," Paula said and applied lipstick.

"Paula!" Terry gasped.

"She's my best friend," Paula smiled, blew Terry a kiss, then entered the bar area.

"Ever try...?" Terry asked and combed Darlene's hair back. "If we had a little gel, we could..."

"Here," Darlene said excitedly, reaching over and popping her locker open.

"See, slick it back like..." Terry showed her.

"Nice, very nice," Cheryl agreed and took a CD off of the stack and prepared to put it into the player.

"Hey! How's it going?" Amber asked as she came off of the stage, dressed in only pasties and tiny thong.

"Hey," Terry smiled as she styled Darlene's hair.

Peter Gabriel's 'Sledgehammer' came booming out and Cheryl strutted out onto the stage.

"Damn, Terry, you're really good at this," Paula said, appraising Terry's work. "I mean, Darlene always looks like a total skank, but now she looks well, almost good."

"Fuck you!" Darlene sneered.

"Hey, Terry, did you know one of Darlene's relatives invented the toothbrush?" Paula asked.

"No, really?" Terry asked, as gullible as ever.

"Yeah, that's why it's called a 'toothbrush' and not a 'teethbrush,'" Paula laughed.

"Bitch, I will get you for that," Darlene laughed.

"You know I'm just fucking with you," Paula smiled and gave Darlene an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"Uh huh," Darlene said and admired her hairstyle.

"Wings on the bar whenever you're ready," Paula told Terry.

"Oh boy!" Terry said and put the comb down on the counter.

Tom waved in greeting and Mandy set down a coke next to the steaming plate of wings.

"Oh wow, what'd she do to her hair?" Mandy asked, looking at Cheryl.

"Terry did it," Paula said proudly as she took her seat next to Terry.

"Soon as you finish that, Hurricane Room two," Tom said.

"Damn; I just got here!" Paula snapped.

"He's been waiting all day," Tom shrugged.

"Want me to keep them for you?" Terry asked.

"No; I hate cold food," Paula said, grabbing a wing.

Each steaming bite was doused with diet coke, until the plate was reduced to a pile of bones.

"All right, let's go make some money," Paula smiled and gave Terry a kiss.

"Love you," Terry said as Paula scampered toward the private room.

"Um, what y'all do in the Hurricane Room?" Terry asked Amber when Amber sat down next to her.

"Whatever the customer wants," Amber shrugged. "I mean, it's a private dance, but, you know. Whatever the guy's willing to pay for."

"You mean, like..." Terry asked.

"Fuck, for a hundred, I'll blow the guy," Amber admitted, looking around the bar to see if there were any customers she could manipulate a drink out of.

Tom was being a real hard ass, not letting her have any free drinks. All the water, or soda she could drink, no problem, but alcohol would either come out of her pocket, or out of a customer's pocket.

"Really?" Terry gasped.

A hundred dollars for something she willingly gave away for free sounded like a lot of money to her.

"Yeah, one guy offered me five hundred take it up the ass; told him that's 'Exit only' though," Amber smiled and made eye contact with a nervous looking man.

"Most of the guys figure they should get all that shit for free since they paid a hundred and fifty for the room already," Darlene said, taking a stool to Terry's right.

Darlene ordered a pepper salad from Mandy.

"So, where you do hair?" she asked Terry.

"I don't," Terry admitted, noticing that Darlene was dressed in shorts and halter top and sneakers.

"I'm off; worked the lunch shift," Darlene answered Terry's unasked question.

"Oh," Terry said, taking a sip of her coke.

Amber slipped off the stool and approached the older man.

"I mean, it's supposed to be a private dance, so I take off the pasties and the thong, let them see I really am a red head," Darlene admitted. "Fifty bucks more, I'll give them a lap dance until they cream their jeans."

"Does Paula...?" Terry asked, feeling a pang of jealousy.

"Girlfriend, when it comes to making money, Paula knows how to milk them mother fuckers until they shit!" Darlene laughed.

"No, I mean, does she..." Terry asked and leaned close to Darlene. "She fuck them?"

"She usually makes four, five hundred dollars every time she goes in there; you tell me," Darlene said and slid a sweaty ten dollar bill to Mandy as Mandy put the large salad in front of her.

"What's this?" Mandy asked, indicating the ten dollar bill.

"Tip," Darlene said and began eating hurriedly.

"Thanks," Mandy smiled, pocketing the bill.

"Welcome, damn! Oh, I love jalapenos!" Darlene said and took a gulp of her soda.

"Damn!" Terry laughed. "Slow down! What's your hurry?

"Mom's watching my two rug rats; need to get them before six thirty or she has a heart attack," Darlene explained. "And I know, minute I get them I won't have a minute to eat until nine, ten o'clock tonight. So..."

She used a cracker to push more food onto her fork, and then jammed both fork and cracker into her mouth.

"So when you go up?" a man asked Terry.

"Go up where?" Terry asked.

Mandy smiled widely but shook her head no.

"Sorry, Barry; she's a customer, not a dancer," Mandy said.

"Shit; thought you'd hired someone new," Barry shrugged and ordered a gin gimlet.

Barry paid for his drink, nodded politely to Terry and Darlene, and then found a seat close to the small stage.

"See you later, thanks for doing my hair," Darlene said, kissed Terry on the cheek and hopped down from the stool.

Cheryl got off the stage and a moment later, Paula came out, strutting confidently to a club mix of 'Kids in America' by Kim Wilde.

Amber's customer came to the bar, ordered two drinks and asked about the Hurricane Room.

Terry listened intently as Tom explained the rules of the Hurricane Room as well as the price and what he could expect for the one hundred and fifty dollars.

The man opened his wallet, carefully counted his money and thought about it for a long moment.

"Don't," Tom counseled. "Think of it this way, brother. If you can afford to just roll down your car window and throw that money out, then yeah, go for it. Throw it down for thirty minutes alone with her. If you got bills to pay, need that money for something else, and then stick it back in your wallet and tell the girl 'not tonight,' okay?"

The man debated with himself for a moment, then pulled a few twenty dollar bills out of his wallet.

"I guess I can afford it," he said.

Terry watched as Paula gyrated in a very suggestive manner; the young woman exuded sex. Her movements, her smile, her clothing, her make-up; she was sex.

"Amber!" Tom called out.

"Yeah?" Amber asked in a surly tone, alcohol emboldening her.

"Hurricane Room one, okay?" he said.

"Thanks, Sugar," Amber smiled at the nervous customer.

"You won't regret it," she whispered loudly, then licked the man's ear.

By the time Paula was down to her pasties and thong, most of the men in the room wanted to fuck her. Terry watched as two men paid Tom for a Hurricane Room with Paula.

"Only one Paula, huh?" Mandy asked, putting a fresh coke in front of Terry.

"So she'll be..." Terry said out loud as Paula got off the small stage.

"About an hour, give or take," Mandy shrugged.

"Hey! You up next?" a man asked Terry.

"She's a customer," Mandy smiled.

"Too bad," the man shrugged and ordered a draft.

"Fuck! Got Amber in one, Paula in two; Darlene still here?" Tom asked.

"Nope," Mandy said.

"Sorry, Cheryl," Tom muttered and strode rapidly to the back room.

"Listen, you want, you can go in the back to wait for Paula," Mandy suggested as another man approached the bar, eyes looking intently at Terry.

"Um, okay," Terry said and scurried to the back.

"Hey," Cheryl smiled as Terry entered. "Listen, do my hair like you did Darlene's, okay?"

"Um, oh, okay," Terry agreed and grabbed the comb Cheryl held out to her. "Got any gel?"

"Hair gel, right?" Cheryl smiled teasingly.

"Yeah," Terry said, puzzled.

"Sorry, sweetie; forget you're innocent," Cheryl said, plopping a tube of hair gel into Terry's hand.

"Cheryl, need you out there," Tom said, flipping his cell phone shut. "Tita's not picking up; Shelley's still got the flu, fucking great."

"Getting ready right now," Cheryl said.

Terry worked rapidly while Tom punched in another number.

"Thanks; God, you're really good at this," Cheryl said and jumped to her feet.

"You wouldn't want to...?" Tom asked Terry as he waited on the phone.

"No!" Terry said, blushing hotly.

"Hey Kenny need you to come in," Tom barked into the cell phone.

"Great, thanks," he said and hung up.

"Too bad; had three or four guys ask when you were going up," Tom said and strode out of the back.

Through a gap in the curtain, Terry watched as Cheryl did her best to tease the men. Cheryl must have seen her peering; during one maneuver, she bent over, flashing her tong covered ass at Terry, then blew Terry a kiss. Terry smiled and shook her head at Cheryl.

Amber came in, checked her hair, make up, and costume, then left again.

"Hey, who you?" a black woman demanded, striding in, carrying a tote bag.

"Um, I'm Terry, I'm..." Terry stammered.

So far, every one of the dancers she'd met had been very sweet, very friendly toward her. The hostility was coming off of this woman in waves.

"Well, Terry, just don't fuck with me and I won't fuck with you, feel me?" Kenny said, twirling a combination lock and snapping her locker open.

Okay," Terry said.

She looked at the other lockers; none of them were locked.

"Kenny, fuck with Terry, I will fuck you up," Paula snapped. "That's a promise."

"Oh, so she's your girl, huh?" Kenny snapped.

"Yeah, she's my girl," Paula said, putting a protective arm around Terry's waist.

"Listen, about twenty minutes, get me a chef salad, vinaigrette dressing, okay?" Paula asked, handing Terry a twenty dollar bill. "Oh and no croutons; you want anything?"

"No, no, I'm good," terry stammered.

"Sure?" Paula said, peering into Terry's eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Terry said.

"Okay," Paula said and pressed a jammy kiss on Terry's lips. "Love you."

"Hey!" Terry called out as Paula scampered to her next customer. "What you want to drink?"

"Diet," Paula called back and disappeared.

"Kenyata, thank God you're here," Cheryl smiled as she exited the stage.

"Yeah, wasn't doing nothing but sitting at home getting all fucked up; got me some killer stick, want some?" Kenny said, affording Cheryl a rare smile.

"Real stick or that fake ass shit you had last time?" Cheryl asked.

"I done told you; that shit wasn't my fault," Kenny protested, pulling a CD out of her locker and feeding it to the player.

"Uh huh, I'm still waiting get my fifty back too," Cheryl said.

"Here, try it. You like it, I get you some more," Kenny said, handing Cheryl a tightly rolled joint.

'Fuck The Police' by NWA came booming out of the speakers and Kenny went onto the small stage.

"Fuck, I hate NWA," Cheryl frowned, even as her head was bobbing along to the song.

"God damn, I told her about blasting that hate shit," Tom yelled, storming into the back. "Cheryl! Give me one of your CDs, huh?"

To Be Continued.